


Behind the Walls

by torchestogether



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Depression, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Gallows Humor, Heavy Angst, Human Wade Wilson, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Institutions, Mischief, Peter Feels, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Schizophrenia, Self-Harm, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Wade Has Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torchestogether/pseuds/torchestogether
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter checks into a mental hospital for in-patient treatment for his depression. While there, he meets Wade, a schizophrenic with a knack for mischief. The two form a friendship that Peter isn't sure is healthy, but it just might be what he needs to get better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to be pretty heavy in its content. It takes place in a mental hospital and will deal with a lot of serious topics that might be triggers for some people. Please keep that in mind when you read this. I'll add any tags that might be red flags if/when they come about later on. 
> 
> I would also like to add that this is most likely not an accurate portrayal of life inside a mental health facility, but this is an idea for a story that I've been toying around with, so we'll just see how it goes for now.

One would imagine that when getting checked into a mental hospital, the weather might reflect the nature of the situation. It would be raining; the sun lost behind the clouds so that the shadows covered the landscape like a blanket. The day would be melancholy; a mirror of the troubles that were the cause that brought forth the necessity of the hospital.

It was almost laughable that the day Peter Parker was checking in, it would be one of the nicest days of the year. The sun was beaming and warm. A hint of a cool breeze inviting families out for picnics. It was just one more thing to add to the separation he felt with everyone around him. He knew these musings sounded melodramatic, but his mind wouldn’t stop pointing out how if he was _normal_ , he could have enjoyed this nice day like everyone else.

“This place looks nice, doesn’t it?” Peter’s Aunt May prompted as the car drove up the winding entrance road. Her words barely registered past the increasingly trapped thoughts racing through his mind. Every turn of the car’s wheels was a step closer to captivity, the end of his freedom. The building at the top of the hill grew larger and larger, looming like an ominous start to a horror movie.

Aunt May rambled on, her voice filled with exaggerated enthusiasm. Peter could tell she was forcing all the positive words that continued to tumble out, but it was her way of assuring herself that bringing him here was not going to be a mistake. He knew she would be tossing and turning every night from now on, wondering if she made the right choice by listening to the doctors.

The car came to a stop. The comforting drone of the engine cut off and the sniffling Aunt May had been trying to hold back for the entire drive became all the more noticeable. The sound made Peter’s stomach twist with guilt for putting her through all of this. After everything she had done for him, this was how he repaid her.

“It won’t be forever, Peter.” She had repeated this sentiment since the doctors recommended Peter be checked in for the in-patient treatment program. Managing his depression on his own had obviously not been working and, after spiraling to rock bottom, the doctors had told Aunt May that the hospital might be his best option. Peter thought it was a lost cause, but the hope on his aunt’s face when the doctors described the program’s success rate was something he couldn’t bring himself to crush by refusing to go.

Peter fixed the most convincing smile he could muster onto his face before turning to face her. “I know. I’ll be back home before you can even miss me, Aunt May.”

She gave him a shaky smile back, holding back the tears that would fall the second she got back into the car without him. His aunt had always been one of the strongest people she knew. She would not let him see her break down. Peter desperately wanted to beg her to start the car, to take them back to the city and away from this place out in the middle of nowhere that he would be suffocated by doctors and medications. Panic rose in his throat more with each passing second that ticked by, but Peter swallowed it back and reached for the car door. There was no need to make this harder on Aunt May than it needed to be.

The air was clean and smelled better than it did back in the city. Peter hated it. He already missed the sounds of the traffic and all the people bustling around. He had been raised in the city and it was in his blood. The website for the hospital had advertised its location as being “therapeutic” and “peaceful,” but it made Peter feel anxious as he looked up at the towering building.

He tried to hide his panic by snatching his small duffle bag out of the backseat. Patients weren’t allowed to bring many personal belongings, but a few books, photographs of what was waiting for him back home, and a notebook were on the list of “accepted” items. Peter clutched the bag until his knuckles were white to keep the shaking to a minimum. Aunt May needed him to put on a brave face for just a little while longer. Peter could do that much for her at least.

The administration lobby of the hospital was cavernous. Peter felt the urge to whistle to see if the room would echo, but his mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. He trailed behind his aunt, hardly breathing as they came to the check-in desk.

“And who do we have here?” the receptionist asked, entirely too cheerful for someone whose job it was to admit people into a loony bin. Maybe she was already trying to placate the crazies when they walked through the door.

“This is my nephew.” His aunt stepped in when Peter didn’t answer. “Peter Parker. We’ve already signed all the forms and filled everything out. I’m just bringing him in to start on his in-patient program.”

The receptionist made a show of welcoming Peter to the hospital, but only after insisting on searching through his bag for anything he might have tried to sneak in. She chattered away with his aunt when it became clear that Peter wouldn’t contribute to the conversation as she rifled through what few things he had.

“Alright, Mr. Parker, it seems like you’re all set,” she announced, zipping his bag closed and handing it back to him. “I’ll have someone take you back to get settled into your new room after you say goodbye to your aunt.”

Peter glanced over to see a nurse waiting patiently by the door into the rest of the hospital. This was it. This was the where he had landed himself; it was his punishment for not being able to pretend to be normal well enough anymore. His aunt had worked so hard to give him everything he needed and he insulted her by ending up in a place like this. He should have pretended better.

“I’ll be back to visit soon.” Her eyes were shining with tears. “I think this is going to be good for you, Peter.”

“It won’t be forever.” He echoed the words that had been their mantra since the start of this whole process, more for her than for himself. He let himself be enveloped into a tight hug and tried to commit the feeling to memory. Peter didn’t want her to leave feeling guilty about making him come here. “I’ll expect a nice big plate of your famous meatloaf when I get out of here, okay? I miss it already.”

Her body shook with the laughter that he was trying to spark. The sound helped to ease the hollowness inside of him, even just for a few moments. It was one small thing he could do for the woman who was trying so desperately to save him from himself. Peter knew it was insignificant, but he was trying.

Aunt May pulled away from him and brushed the hair off his forehead like she had done since he was little. “Of course I’ll make that for you. I’ll have it ready for you when you get home.”

Neither of them could bring themselves to say an actual goodbye, so with that, she gave his arm one last squeeze and left. He wanted to chase after her when the door closed behind her, but he managed to keep himself rooted to the spot until the nurse came over to gently remind him that it was time to go with her into the confines of the hospital.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Peter stared at the room while the nurse rambled on in the background about the facility. Her words fell into the dull buzzing that echoed in his mind from the moment he heard the door into the lobby close behind him and lock. The hollow feeling in his chest had spread until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He barely registered the pale green scrubs she placed at the foot of what was to be his bed with a gentle reminder that he would be expected to wear the clothes the facility provided. 

He took in the plain room without a word. Two beds sat on either side of the small space. The one meant for him was neatly made with crisp white sheets and a fluffy pillow, but it was still a hospital bed underneath the illusion of comfort. There was a small nightstand beside the bed with a lamp that appeared to be bolted to the surface. The walls were bare on his side, sterile and impersonal. 

The opposite side of the room looked like a tornado had passed through. The nurse was busy trying to tidy it up, but the chaos of it hard to ignore. The sheets had been twisted and flung onto the floor; the pillow clear across the room by the door. The wall next to the bed was filled with pictures, some were drawn by hand and some were photographs cut out from magazines or printed from a computer. The colors from the haphazardly taped up pictures were a shock against the otherwise clinical looking room. 

The nurse caught Peter staring at that side of the room. “Your roommate is a little...exuberant. He’s got a big personality, which you’ll find out pretty quickly. We’ve had some trouble matching him with a roommate in the past, but he’s not dangerous.” Peter thought he heard a muttered “anymore” at the end of her sentence, but he thought maybe he imagined it. They wouldn’t put him in a room with someone violent...would they? If Peter could bring himself to care, he might have been worried. 

“I’ll let you change and then I’ll show you the rest of the ward,” the nurse told him. “I’ll be right outside the door.”

Peter would have to get used to having people around him every hour of the day. He already missed the isolation he had carved out for himself over the past few years. The door closed, but she left it cracked enough to hear what was going on in the room. That was as much privacy as he was likely to get in this place. 

Slipping into the scrubs was the nail on the coffin for him. The last of his identity was in a pile clutched in his hands that would be taken from him until he was discharged. How the doctors thought he could get better when he couldn’t even be trusted to wear his own clothes was beyond him. It won’t be forever. He just had to pretend to be normal for long enough to get out of this place. 

“I’ll keep these safe for you in the meantime.” The nurse took his clothes out of his hands the moment he opened the door. The small pile was tucked into a clear bag and tied shut. She motioned for Peter to follow her down the hall, where she passed the bag off to another woman behind a tall desk. He trailed behind her as she rattled away about the different rooms and the routine that was put in place for all of the patients. She praised the benefits of having structure to allow the mind time to repair itself. Peter held back the sarcastic remarks that threatened to slip past his clenched teeth. 

He was informed that the scheduled time for group therapy was almost over, so the nurse left him to his own devices in the almost empty common room. An orderly stood in the corner, nodding kindly to Peter. The thought of the group therapy session ending made him nervous. So far, he hadn’t seen any other patients in this ward and it had been easy to pretend that this place was just a strange hotel or resort. He hated the idea of facing the reality that he was here with all the other crazies that had to be shut away. 

The double doors at the end of the hall burst open hard enough to bang against the walls. Peter jumped with a start and whirled around to face the incoming threat. Instead of a mad rush of patients, a small group slowly wandered out and into the hallway of the ward. In front of the group, the person responsible for the dramatic entrance was weaving back and forth and spinning around, singing a horrible rendition of an eighties rock song. The rest of the group looked more normal than Peter expected, many of them even sending irritated glares in the direction of the loud one. 

Peter knew staring would probably not be the best idea in a place like this, but as the man came closer, he couldn’t look away. He was covered in scars on every patch of exposed skin; red, irritated looking scars that seemed to be from some horrific injury that had since healed but had marred his appearance forever. Even the skin on the top of his bald head was riddled with the painful looking marks. Peter had never seen anything like it. He was astonished that someone who had been something so obviously traumatic could even manage to laugh and dance with such carefree abandon, even if it was within the confines of a psych ward. 

Peter was wondering how the other man could be so happy despite the bleak location they now shared when the loud singing suddenly cut off. He stifled a small gasp of shock glare being directed at him by the scarred man. Peter wanted to sink down into the cushions of the couch underneath him as the other man stood eerily still just a few feet away. The anger in his eyes had the hair on the back of Peter’s neck standing on end. 

It had been quite a long time since Peter had felt any sense of self-preservation, but he couldn’t ignore the blatant threat the scarred man imposed as he stalked towards him. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw the orderly tense and move closer, as if to ready himself to step in if an altercation broke out. Peter hoped he would be quick enough.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” The man’s voice sounded like a feral animal, making Peter’s stammered apology crash into a jumbled mess of incoherent syllables. “Just because you look like a cute little puppy doesn’t mean I want you staring at me like I’m wearing my maid outfit, baby boy. The doc says I’m not allowed to kill people, but if you don’t shut your gaping mouth, we might make an exception.”

Peter’s heart hammered away in his chest. The relief he felt when the orderly stepped between the two of them was enough to make him dizzy. He hadn’t even been here an entire day and he managed to get himself into trouble already. 

The nurse from earlier came in, carrying a tray of pill cups. “Oh, good! Mr. Parker, this is your roommate, Wade.”


End file.
